


in the name of art.

by romulus_adhara



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Choking, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Smut, Spanking, god I never thought I’d have to PUT THESE TAGS ON MY FIC, i blame whiplash, taeyong wants to be domed, ten kinda gives it to him, they’re whipped and whipping, you should see my face as I type out these tags with a ‘how the fuck do I even call it’ scream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romulus_adhara/pseuds/romulus_adhara
Summary: come closer, I’ll show you my fantasy,you’re going to treat me really lovingly, right?





	in the name of art.

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever get so drunk you wake up to a note in your phone with taeten smut you only faintly recall writing in the middle of the night in the club? yeah. welcome to my life.

Ten feels like heaven. 

Yes, that’s what it is. 

The way he’s undressing him, pulling off every layer like he’s putting on his own little show, treating his body as a artistic masterpiece, smirking like the most annoying little shit, licking every inch of Taeyong’s skin he’s exposing, biting down and making sure everyone will see who Tae belongs to. As if every person in this building with working eyes doesn’t know already what’s going on, doesn’t see the looks and touches and smiles, and doesn’t make innuendos so often it’s become a tradition. Like everybody doesn’t already know Taeyong lost any capacity to notice anyone else a long time ago. 

The way he finally takes off his boxers and licks his cock, sucking on the head and gripping Taeyong’s thighs to not even allow him to move, as if he knows Tae will squirm and beg, and he doesn’t know that for sure, but Ten has expressed his ability to predict everything about Taeyong before, and so it makes sense for him to press down on Tae’s legs, preventing him from making even a movement that he isn’t allowed to make. 

The way Ten takes him into his mouth, sucking obscenely as if he’s just casually licking a lollipop, only it’s not a candy — it’s Taeyong, losing his mind under his mouth and hands, his fingers gripping the sheets, scared to touch Ten in fear of being rejected. 

Only Ten knows him too well for his own good because he pulls away, a thread of spit from his lips to Taeyong’s dick looking like a bad porn shot but still somehow arousing, and grabs Tae’s hand to put on his head. 

“Make me do what you want,” he grits out, his voice hoarse and unrecognizable, and it makes something awaken inside Taeyong, some needy pleading urge, because he buries his hand in Ten’s hair, messed up and still wet after a shower; and makes him go back to the blowjob, his long fingers an ideal image on Taeyong’s skin. They fit together so well, a picture-perfect duo that moves around each other like two moons of one planet, or no, no — Ten is his planet, and Taeyong keeps gravitating towards him, mesmerized by the beauty and delicate curve of his body. 

The thing with Taeyong is that he is not exactly shy, he’s not a blushing mess that can’t say something related to sex in a usual conversation, he’s not someone who avoids dirty talk, no, he can be expressive and vocal when he needs to, but the things he wants aren’t the ones he can always tell Ten — his basically best friend, and it’s their first time, and maybe it’s not the time to tell him how he wants to feel loved yet disregarded, humiliated but cared for. 

Ten sucks like it’s his last day on Earth, his tongue hot and all over the place, his throat tight around Taeyong’s cock, and it’s too fucking much, and that last Whiskey Sour was probably too much, because he finds himself sobbing dryly and begging for something he never thought he’d ask Ten of all people. 

“Fuck me like you hate me,” he chokes out, and Ten stops, getting his head up, letting Taeyong’s cock fall back on his stomach, leaving the wet trail. 

Ten looks at him long and hard, his lips wet and smirking, and Taeyong almost regrets saying anything before Ten hums and kisses his stomach, slowly trailing the edges of Taeyong’s scar with his tongue. 

“You know how you always make that sound?” Ten whispers into his skin, biting it and rubbing it with his nails, and it hurts in such a good way Taeyong moans shamelessly, his eyes fluttering shut. “When someone compliments you... You sound like a happy kitten.”

He kisses Taeyong’s abdomen, getting higher to his nipples and sucking on them, biting down to make Taeyong whine even more as his hand leaves marks on his ribs, nails digging into the skin, too hard to be gentle but it makes Taeyong like it even better. 

“Ten, please.” Taeyong feels so desperate for him, for everything he knows Ten can give him, so he grabs his hair again to try and get him back down, yet this time Ten growls at him and shakes his hands off, his own fingers going up to Taeyong’s neck and pressing down. 

“Do you really think you deserve it?” He groans, his face close to Taeyong’s lips, that fucking smirk that keeps driving Taeyong insane appearing again, and his other hand wraps around his cock to stroke it lightly — tight enough to make him feel it but not nearly strong enough to have any effect. It’s just shameless teasing that Tae likes too much. 

“Give me everything you think I deserve,” he whines, looking up on Ten through tears and begging him with his eyes, almost fucking meowing from how much he wants it.

Ten’s fingers press down on his neck, making him choke up, and it makes him even harder, the suffocation he feels, the power that Ten holds over him making him whine and moan.

“Please, Ten-ah, please.”

Ten kisses his chest so gently it seems unfitting but still presses down, his lips traveling to Taeyong’s chin, his tongue brushing over his lips but still not touching him. He looses his grip on Taeyong’s neck but doesn’t let go completely, stroking his cock with that annoying consistency he always shows when he dances. He’s perfect at everything, even if it means giving his leader a handjob in the darkness of the dorms. 

It’s so fucking messy — his sweat mixing with Ten’s saliva, and he loves the fact that he finds it so hot — giving up control, letting Ten know what he wants, because when it comes down to it, he’s the only one that really gets it. The only one that can give it to him. 

Maybe it’s about Ten figuring out what exactly it does to Taeyong when he gets mad and starts swearing at everyone. Maybe it’s about the way Taeyong feels weak at the knees whenever Ten is angry and glances at him to make sure he’s not crossing the line but sees something dark and primary in Taeyong’s eyes. Maybe it’s about the way he snatches a kiss on the neck when cameras aren’t rolling and Taeyong swoons under his lips. 

Ten brings him back to reality by stroking his neck as he chokes him, his breath hot on Taeyong’s lips. His other hand leaves Taeyong’s body and takes the lube, managing to open the bottle and pour it on Taeyong’s body, his hands too busy. He smears his palm in it, coating his fingers, and it’s not supposed to be so hot but it is. Everything about Ten is. 

He stretches him out slowly, like a torture, catching every gasp of Taeyong’s with his lips until he decides there’s something more interesting and goes down again, his lips wrapping around the crown of Taeyong’s cock, the eye contact still going as Tae almost passes out from the lack of oxygen and Ten inside of him. 

His tongue is everywhere — on the underside of his cock, on his thighs, on his entrance, and Taeyong almost comes imagining how he tastes right now — like his own citrus smell and the cherry lube; until Ten thinks he’s had enough and mixes his fingers with his tongue, opening Taeyong up to take him in. 

He adds another finger only when Taeyong explicitly asks for it, choking out the begging sound and some words he can’t even comprehend, and Ten finally lets go of his neck to scratch marks into Tae’s ribs. He moves his hand in and out, his mouth on his rim and his cock all the time, and it’s so freaking messy and wet Tae feels like passing out. 

“I’m ready, please.” He groans and moans, but Ten doesn’t listen to him, and the scratch marks burn as the cool air breezes over them. And Ten is impatient, he knows it — he’s rubbing his crotch on the sheets, his own cock leaking with precum, and Taeyong doesn’t see it now but he knows he wants it inside of him. 

“You’re ready when I say you are.”

It goes on forever, it seems — the preparation and the torture, Ten leaving bite marks all over his thighs, three fingers now moving inside and pressing on Taeyong’s walls, brushing over his prostate to send shivers up and down his spine. 

When Ten finally decides that he’s really ready, he makes it known — his hand goes back up to Taeyong’s neck, his thumb over his Adam’s apple, his mouth on Taeyong’s ear as he aligns himself to slowly, incredibly excruciatingly slowly push inside, the tip pressing down to Taeyong’s rim. He wants it. He wants it so much. 

And then Ten does something Tae never asked for — he kisses his cheek so incredibly gently and moves to his ear, slowly pushing inside and stretching Tae even more. 

“I love you,” he whispers as Taeyong is falling apart under him, his entire nervous system coming down to a single point where Ten’s cock is now fully buried in him, his skin hot and his touch gentle. 

He feels more marks appear as Ten digs his nails into his thighs, lifting them up to make Tae wrap his legs around him, to make it even easier to fuck into his willing body. 

It’s so amazing — to hear and feel how he is loved, how Ten is giving him what he needs. There are fingers on his neck and ribs but they’re right — because Ten is right. 

“Do you think you’re perfect?” Ten murmurs as he moves, and how does he expect Tae to respond when everything he feels is the movement inside of him, his cock pressed between their stomachs, his labored breathing loud in the darkness of the room. 

“Because I do,” Ten groans, pulling out almost entirely and pushing back inside so hard the sound is loud on Taeyong’s eardrums. “I think you’re prefect. And you hate it.”

He moves faster and faster, the wet slapping sound of his hips slamming into Taeyong echoing in the room, making him feel even dirtier, and he groans, gritting his teeth. 

“You want to be told how bad you are.” Ten’s fingers will probably leave bruises all over his neck but Taeyong gets off on the black dots that appear in front of his eyes from lack of oxygen and too-much of pleasure. Ten is buried deep inside of him now, his hands hugging Taeyong’s neck and shoulders, pressing and squeezing, holding him down and together. 

“You’re so fucking bad, Yongie,” Ten whispers, and Taeyong feels his legs shake from the tension. “Bad at being someone I don’t want. Someone I don’t look at every day and wish to have in my arms forever.”

Taeyong whines, his throat hoarse and raw, scratching at Ten’s thighs to get him to move again. 

Ten finally complies, moving at an excruciating pace, his hand going down to wrap around Taeyong’s cock, circling the base of it to not let him come. Not until he allows it. 

“Shut up,” he instructs when Taeyong whines again, and he wants to cry from how much it makes him feel — so powerless in his arms, so belonging to him, so soaked with his smell it will probably linger for days no matter how much he showers. He wants to smell like Ten. He wants everyone to know whom he belongs to. 

“Like it?”

He doesn’t say anything because he’s not allowed — and even if he was, he wouldn’t be able to — and only bites his lips so hard he tastes blood when he feels Ten speeding up, fucking into him like he wants to ingrain himself into Taeyong’s body forever. He wants Ten to feel good, wants him to feel amazing and perfect because of who he’s with, and so he grabs his back, tracing his nails on his sides to hear Ten hiss and slap him on the leg. He whines from the jolt of pleasure it sends down his spine and thinks that if he wasn’t already blushing, his face burning, he would really be in trouble right now, because Ten notices what the pain does to him — and he smirks, slowing down again. 

“You want to be whipped, baby?” He asks innocently, and Taeyong can barely keep his eyes open but he wants to see the way Ten’s pupils are blown behind the hair falling down on his eyes. 

He cannot speak, but he wants Ten to know everything, and so he just nods shakily, swallowing and groaning when his Adam’s apple presses into Ten’s palm. Ten cooes at him and leans in to kiss him, a gentle delicate touch as a contrast to the roughness of his movements. 

“Don’t have a whip,” Ten breathes out regretfully, licking Taeyong’s split lip, sucking on it before letting go and kissing his chin. “But we will manage, won’t we, angel?”

Taeyong trusts him to do everything right so much that he doesn’t even think about it twice. It’s easy to trust Ten when they’re dancing, and it’s easy to trust Ten when he beckons him up, straightening up without pulling out and turning them over. 

Suddenly, Taeyong is on top of him, and he breathes in deeply now that his throat is free, feeling the marks from Ten’s fingers burn pleasantly. He’s leaning his hands on Ten’s chest for balance, and thinks as he looks down at him, his face flushed and his lips swollen — you’re the most beautiful man I have ever seen. 

Ten grips his ass, arching his eyebrow and urging Taeyong to move, and he does — tentatively at first, testing the waters, warming up and setting the pace, and just when he thinks he’s found it, Ten spanks him, his open palm landing on Taeyong’s skin with a loud sound, and it is unexpected and so fucking great that Taeyong falls down on him, moaning so load he thinks people three rooms over can hear him. 

He whines into Ten’s neck, his cock pressed between their stomachs, but Ten doesn’t give him time to recover — his fingers wrap around Taeyong’s neck again, pressing in time with another slap, and this one is even more painful because it lands on already sensitive skin, but that is what makes Taeyong scream out in pleasure, his body shaking from the pure delight he feels. 

Ten whispers something into his ear but Taeyong is too blissed to even try and listen to him, his nails digging into Ten’s shoulders as Ten keeps slapping his buttcheeks, grabbing them to spread them wider and fuck deeper inside, and it’s too fucking much, it is, and Taeyong knows he’s going to come soon as his stomach tightens, his cock soaking wet, the friction of movement of their bodies bringing him even closer to the edge. 

“Not yet, angel,” Ten whispers, and Taeyong can’t take it anymore — he whines into Ten’s shoulder, biting down in it, desperate for even more punishment, and it works, because Ten pushes him away and makes him sit down again, wrapping his hand around Taeyong’s cock with a hissing sound. 

Tae throws his head back in bliss as he feels Ten stroking him, but immediately stopping to hold the base and freeze there, not allowing Taeyong the release.

“You look a wreck,” he breathes out, his entire body still as he breathes heavily, and Taeyong looks down on him, biting his lip. 

“It’s all you,” he croaks, feeling like that’s true — he’s a wreck of a man, held together only by the hands on his skin. 

And just like that, he feels something warm explode in his chest, his desire to be destroyed stepping back for a while, and he feels like he’s suffocating metaphorically now — from what he feels for Ten. From what he sees in his eyes, their gaze never leaving Taeyong’s face. He lowers back down slowly to kiss Ten, gently nibbling on his lips as his fingers stroke his face. 

“I love you too,” he says in response to what Ten said an eternity ago, and it expands his ribs, desperate to break out of him and fill the world. 

Ten hums and caresses his back with his hands, hugging him close and turning them over again, reversing to where it all started. 

He starts moving again, kissing the marks he left on Taeyong’s neck, biting his skin and pressing on it with his fingers, but not as strong as before, and Taeyong feels like the most important person in the universe. 

Ten speeds up, and it’s the combination of it all — feeling Ten fuck into him and hit his prostate, Ten’s hands all over him so much it’s impossible to pinpoint it to one thing, his breathing in Taeyong’s ear, and the way he feels so loved and cared for — it makes him come, spilling into Ten’s hand and all over his stomach, his spine arching up to press into Ten and cry out his name, bubbling like a drunk idiot. 

“Look at the mess you’ve made, baby,” Ten whispers, but Taeyong can barely think, his sensitive skin exploding with pleasure as Ten keeps pushing into him, erratic now as he’s desperate to follow Taeyong, and Tae wants to help him — and he thinks back to all the times he lost his concentration when Ten started getting mad and looked at him for leader guidance to see Taeyong breathing heavily, and he asked what’s wrong, and Taeyong just murmured that hyung is fine, and at first he didn’t notice the look on Ten but he thinks about it now and smirks lazily, his body soft and pliant after the orgasm.

“Come on, Ten-ah,” he whispers into Ten’s ear, stroking his hair and brushing his tongue over Ten’s cheek. “Come for hyung.”

Ten makes a strained sound and bites Taeyong’s shoulder as Tae feels him come, his hips shaking as he breathes heavily and whines into Taeyong’s skin. Tae strokes his back, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as his own mind reminds him of a puffy cloud, fucked out and blissed. 

He lets Ten stay on him because the heaviness is pleasant, and it’s the most amazing shit in the world — to be trapped under him, belonging to him and only him. 

The marks and scratches burn, and he cannot wait to see the bruises on his neck and thighs and — sweet gods, he is blushing again just remembering it — and his ass. 

Ten presses slow lazy kisses all over his shoulder as he pulls out, and Taeyong winces when he lowers his legs and feels sensitive skin touch the sheets, but it’s the pain he welcomes. The pain he wanted. 

Ten is everywhere around him — his scent and his warmth, his slender fingers brushing over the bruises he left on Taeyong’s neck, his mouth leaving kisses all over his face to return to his lips, his palm stopping over Taeyong’s heart. It’s beating for him. 

As Ten whispers something into Taeyong’s skin, praising him and making him feel so fucking loved and appreciated, he thinks with some deal of wonder —

_you deserve the best. And you made me that best._

**Author's Note:**

> [did you know sm made Taeyong change some pronouns in Whiplash’s original lyrics to make it less ‘please someone dom me’?](https://twitter.com/chwaeye/status/980092996237508608?s=21)  
> now you know!  
> anyway what ensued was a conversation that broke my brain:  
> k: taeyong sweetie,,,  
> k: needy culture  
> a: kinky baby just wants to be domed  
> a: like honestly the entire song is kinky af and then there’s “you’re going to treat me really lovingly, right?”  
> a: bruh  
> a: someone choke him and kiss him on the forehead is2g 
> 
> so. yeah.  
> I sincerely apologize honestly this is a mess. a drunken mess. like at some point I had to fix a typo that said “coco”. you go figure out what that was supposed to be. 
> 
> come join my ride to hell on [twitter ](https://twitter.com/romulusadhara)  
> [or curse me for my sins on cc. ](https://curiouscat.me/romulusadhara)


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